BRAT and the Kids of Warriors Read online

  The kids just stared.

  “Don’t you see? You’ll be some of the greatest bombardiers of all time.”

  Ernie had Jack and Queenie each take a handle and carry the big can to the back rail of the ship. He put Rabbit in charge of counting to three, and they dumped its contents over the side. It did, indeed, make one spectacular splash.

  Everyone cheered.

  Then something very surprising happened. Instead of sinking out of sight, some of the garbage popped back up to the surface as a floating smorgasbord of cans, bottles, paper, lettuce leaves, crusty rolls, and a huge fish bone with the head and tail still attached. That’s when all the birds started dive bombing.

  “Lunch time, little birdies,” yelled Rabbit with delight.

  “Okay, it’s getting close to dinner time, and I need to get back to work. So I better wrap this up before Chef Porteaux gets cranky,” said Ernie. “Try to stay out of trouble, will ya?”

  “Okay, Ernie. But can we be bombardiers tomorrow?” asked Rabbit.

  “Sure, come to the kitchen door any morning, about nine hundred hours. That’s when we do the garbage dump.”

  Jack knew Ernie had things to do, but he called Ernie over to the rail for one quick question. “By watching the garbage, you can tell just how fast this ship is moving. Lots faster than I thought.”

  “Oh, yeah, this old rust bucket can really haul, Jack. In fact, she’s probably doing about nineteen knots. Now you gotta get out of here before I get in trouble.”

  “Nineteen knots?”

  Ernie smirked. “Okay, kid, I’ll translate it into simple Army terms. Nineteen knots is just under twenty-two miles per hour. Got it?”

  “Got it,” said Jack.

  Ernie led them back through the kitchen, careful to keep a safe distance between Rabbit and Chef Porteaux.

  Once they were back in the corridor, Rabbit hugged Ernie and then bolted for who knows where.

  Jack said, “Any idea how we could get onto the bridge for a look around?”

  “Ah, Jack-me-boy, that’s a tough one. Very few people get invited to the captain’s domain. But let me give it some thought.”

  Before Jack could say thanks, Queenie snarled, “Move it, Jack. It’s almost six.”

  Jack rolled his eyes, as if to say, Sisters. “See ya ’round, Ernie.”

  “See ya ’round, Jack.”

  2

  Look Sharp, Act Sharp, Be Sharp

  The McMasters family had two simple ground rules.

  Rule #1: “Be home by 6:00 p.m. for dinner or get killed.” The kids knew their mom meant business. She didn’t much mind where they went during the day, as long as they were home at six sharp. Family dinners were very, very serious business in the McMasters household.

  Rule #2: “Don’t get in trouble.” This was mainly their dad’s rule. And he never let up on it. But the kids knew it really meant, “Don’t get caught.” If you did, Dad would kill you.

  Rule #1 propelled Jack and Queenie down the narrow corridor toward their cabin, Queenie fuming, “She’s going to get us all in trouble.”

  But, as if by magic, Rabbit skipped around the corner, reaching their cabin door first. It was exactly one minute to six.

  Queenie said, “Where have you been?”

  “Nowhere.” Rabbit was the model of innocence.

  Mrs. McMasters was sitting at a small vanity table, putting on her face—her way of saying putting on her makeup. Their mother never went out in public unless she was beautifully dressed and her makeup was perfect.

  “Right on time,” she said, looking up with a smile. She seemed a little less seasick. “Where have you kids been?”

  “Nowhere,” all three said casually.

  “Did you have a nice day?”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “What did you find to do?”

  “Nothing,” they said with one voice. Revealing a day’s grand adventures was the surest way to never have another.

  “Wash up, get changed, and be ready to leave for dinner in five.”

  So in five minutes flat the girls were in dresses, and Jack was in slacks, a clean shirt, and a sweater. They all wore shoes polished to a shine.

  Shining shoes was one of Jack’s daily chores, and it had to be done before any shoe left their quarters. No McMasters ever stepped outside in scuffed shoes. That meant the family never went anywhere in this whole, wide world without a shoeshine kit. In it were brushes, old rags, and cans of Kiwi polish (the only brand they’d ever dream of using). Jack’s toughest job was making sure the colonel’s Corcoran jump boots were properly spit shined. If the colonel couldn’t see his own reflection in the toes of those boots, well, let’s just say Jack’s day would start off poorly. That spit-shine step required tools most civilians wouldn’t think to use. Things like a book of matches for melting some of the Kiwi wax, a small bottle of alcohol to use sometimes instead of spit to get a perfect shine, and one of Mrs. McMasters’s torn silk stockings—the greatest buffing device on the planet.

  But with the colonel already in Germany, Jack’s job was pretty much a breeze.

  Life on board ship definitely was different from life on base. On board, they went out to dinner every night. The ship’s dining room was more like a restaurant than a mess hall. On base, they rarely went to restaurants, because Mrs. McMasters was a legendary cook. She made a better-than-any-restaurant dinner every single night.

  Even so, the kids liked these shipboard dinners because they could order anything they wanted. Their mom, on the other hand, was too seasick to enjoy the food. She only left the cabin to be at dinner with her children. But each time, she seemed about to throw up.

  However, not even seasickness kept Mrs. McMasters from delivering her pre-dinner lecture. As they walked toward the dining room, she began, “I want you children to behave at dinner tonight. Remember your pleases and thank-yous. And always say, ‘Yes, ma’am’ and ‘Yes, sir.’ Do you understand me?” Without pausing even a second to let them respond, she pushed on. “And another thing: Remember that children are to be seen and not heard. Got it? You sit up straight and remember your manners. Rabbit, use your fork and knife the proper way, and keep your napkin in your lap. I don’t want to have to keep reminding you. You know how to do it correctly. Make me proud of you tonight, children.”

  Pretending to listen was good enough. Everything she said was covered under her motto: “Look sharp, act sharp, be sharp.”

  At the door, they waited for a steward to seat them with other passengers at one of the tables for eight. Tonight’s steward gave the kids a sly wink, silently mouthing, “Hi, Rabbit.”

  Rabbit grinned, mouthing back, “Hi, Ernie!”

  He led them to a table of ship’s officers who were decked out in crisp, white uniforms trimmed in gold. As Mrs. McMasters approached, all the officers got to their feet and stayed standing until everyone had been introduced and Mrs. McMasters was properly seated. She was next to a good-looking officer named Commander Allen. When Jack heard he was the XO, he stopped daydreaming. The XO might not be the captain, but he is the executive officer, the second in command who runs most of the day-to-day operations on the ship. Jack soon learned that Commander Allen had been in the Navy since World War II and had been on a ship in the D-day invasion. Jack and his sisters, like all military brats, had been raised on the stories of World War II. Their father and uncles had all been in the war.

  “Where is your husband, Mrs. McMasters?” asked Commander Allen.

  “Lieutenant Colonel McMasters is already in Germany. He’s part of 4th Armored Division, stationed in Göppingen.”

  Commander Allen nodded. “That’s about half an hour outside the city of Stuttgart.”

  Mrs. McMasters smiled. “So I hear. We are rotating to Germany from Fort Hood, Texas, as part of Operation Gyroscope, replacing 8th Infantry Division a
t Cooke Barracks. They are part of 7th Corp.”

  He smiled back. “I might not be Army, but I know 7th Corp defends the entire southern third of Germany. Your husband is a tanker?”

  “That’s right,” she said, allowing just a hint of pride.

  Jack realized Commander Allen might be his best bet for getting onto the ship’s bridge. Very casually, he said, “Commander, you must know a lot about how this ship operates.”

  Commander Allen smiled a bit dismissively at Jack before saying to Mrs. McMasters, “I suppose I might know one or two small things.”

  “I’ve been trying to figure out just how fast this ship is going,” Jack said. “Could you help me?”

  Jack’s mom gave him “the look” that he wasn’t just being seen.

  Jack knew he was pushing his luck and was glad his dad was safely in Germany. You could get the “kill look” from the colonel for almost anything. And what came after that was never fun. But with his dad gone, Jack risked another comment. “I mean, with all the big waves and wind, it’s kind of hard to tell if we’re moving very fast.” Then, he wisely went silent, giving Commander Allen his best unflinching stare. Jack could see the moment when it became clear to the commander that Jack was not going to go quietly into the night, so he might as well talk to him, even if he’d rather be chatting with Mrs. McMasters.

  “Jack, the weather has been a bit rough, but that doesn’t slow us down. We are burning a bit more fuel, but we’ve still been able to keep a steady nineteen knots.”

  “Um, nineteen knots,” said Jack. “That seems pretty fast. But, I don’t really get the difference between knots and miles. I mean, how does that translate into miles per hour?”

  “Ah, Jack, I can tell you’re not a sailor. More of a land lover and aspiring tanker, are you? Here’s how it works: Both a mile and a knot measure distance. When we say a knot, we mean a nautical mile. The difference between a nautical mile and a regular mile is that a knot is about fifteen percent longer.”

  Jack paused for a few seconds, looking as if he were doing heavy mathematical calculations. Finally he said, “So that means the ship is going faster than nineteen miles per hour. In fact, that means it’s going almost twenty-two miles per hour. Do I have that right?”

  Now it was Commander Allen’s turn to do some fast math. He seemed to see Jack for the first time. “You might not be a sailor now, but you certainly could be, with a little training. You’re correct. The ship is making about twenty-two miles per hour.”

  Perhaps it was something in Commander Allen’s voice, but the other officers started paying attention to the conversation.

  Jack was pretty good at math, but he was even better at making good impressions. After his talk with Ernie, Jack had done the calculations that would help him make a good one now. “So, since New York to Bremerhaven is about 3,400 miles, and if we’re making twenty-two miles per hour, that means it will take us . . . let’s see,” he said, pausing for effect, “seven days to get there. That means we have about two-and-a-half days left. Right?”

  “Gentlemen,” said Commander Allen to the officers around him, “it looks like we’ve found ourselves a new prospective sailor. What say we show him around the bridge tomorrow and give him a better feel for how things work?”

  The men all nodded their approval.

  Quick to capitalize on his win, Jack asked if he could bring his sisters along.

  Commander Allen said, “Feel free to bring them and your mom, if you like, but be there at ten hundred hours sharp.”

  Ten o’clock was fine with him! Jack glanced over at his mom to see if she was okay with all this. Mrs. McMasters seemed quite pleased. And Jack, knowing it was high time to resume his model-child act, was seen and not heard for the rest of dinner.

  As everyone was getting up to leave the table, Queenie asked their mom if they could go off to the movies. Mrs. McMasters said it was fine, if they returned to the cabin right after the show. The McMasters children politely shook hands with each of the officers and got out of there fast.

  In the corridor just outside the dining room, Jack saw Ernie heading for the kitchen. In a quiet voice he called after him, “Hey, Ernie. Thanks.”

  “What for?”

  “For seating us with Commander Allen. You got us invited to the bridge tomorrow.”

  “Just what you wanted. Nice work.”

  “Thanks to you.” Jack beamed. “See ya, Ernie.”

  “See ya, Jack.”

  3

  The Bridge

  The next morning Mrs. McMasters was again looking a little green. Clearly she wasn’t getting out of bed anytime soon. So after breezing through their chores, the kids were up and out, roaming the gangways, corridors, and decks.

  As they did each day, they went topside, racing to the front of the ship to try to spot Germany. No land in sight yet.

  Rabbit yelled, “Pancakes!” She bolted for the stairs.

  Queenie and Jack sprinted after her. Jack was sure he could smell bacon.

  Ever hungry, Jack was in heaven. He lightly buttered his large stack of pancakes before pouring on so much syrup that the stack was floating on a lake. Rabbit, on the other hand, painted each pancake with massive quantities of butter before adding just a little syrup. Rabbit was a butter girl. Queenie once caught her taking a big bite right out of a stick of butter. Rabbit would have eaten the whole thing if Queenie hadn’t snatched it away.

  All facts considered, this was one of their more civilized breakfasts. They only ordered three extra portions of bacon.

  By the end, they were all so lead-bellied they didn’t want to get up from the table. Sitting there in a pancake-induced coma, Jack’s thoughts drifted to his mom. And since Jack believed that most problems could be solved with food, he ordered her some toast and poached eggs. Queenie began to order her coffee. But, for once, Jack was able to correct his older sister, pointing out that while their mom normally drank coffee, when she was sick, she always drank tea.

  Queenie carried the food on a large, silver tray. Jack followed with the pot of tea and a cup. Rabbit was left following along with nothing to bring her mom. Until she thought to swipe a flower out of the big vase just inside the dining room. The children marched off in a grand procession to care for their mother.

  Queenie placed the tray next to her on the bed. While Jack poured the tea just like the waiters at dinner, Rabbit filled a glass with water before plopping the flower in the glass.

  Mrs. McMasters smiled weakly at each new proof of their care, before turning a little greener as she studied the eggs. “Thank you, children. I’ll taste these wonderful eggs after you’re on your way. Give my apologies to Commander Allen. Tell him I am feeling a little under the weather. But do thank him for me.”

  “Mom, you aren’t under the weather, you’re sick,” said Rabbit.

  Queenie just said, “Rabbit, I’ll explain it to you later. Let’s go.”

  As they headed out the door, their mom called weakly, “Mind your manners.”

  The one thing no one had bothered to explain was how to find the bridge. They knew its general location from all of their exploring, but once they got close, no sailor would say more than, “No kids on the bridge. Get out of here.”

  Jack felt his insides start to tighten. What if we don’t find it in time? Commander Allen expects us there at ten hundred on the dot. Mom won’t take any lame excuses.

  He tried saying they were supposed to meet Commander Allen at ten hundred hours. The sailors seemed even more doubtful, until one finally dragged them off to a junior officer buried in paperwork outside a big set of doors.

  “Expected on the bridge? What’s this all about?” demanded the officer, obviously put off at having to deal with a bunch of brats.

  Queenie looked the young officer right in the eye and said with real command presence, “That is correct, sir.
My name is Laura McMasters, and this is my brother, Jack, and my sister, Rabb . . . uh . . . Kirsten. I am sure if you contact Commander Allen, he will be pleased to see us.”

  He gave her a hard look, but Queenie locked eyes with him.

  Finally, sounding impatient and skeptical, he said, “Just a minute.” Picking up a phone, he began relaying the story to someone on the other end of the line. There was a short pause. Then his eyes widened just enough for Queenie to know they were in. She tried not to gloat.

  He gestured for them to stand over by the doors. “Someone will come for you. Stay right there—and don’t move.”

  Jack stood staring at mahogany doors so glossy they must have been polished every day. The big, brass doorknobs shined like pure gold. He figured they led onto the ship’s bridge.

  Suddenly, one of those doors swung open, and a lieutenant from dinner the night before came out. “Ah. The McMasterses, and right on time. The commander will see you now.” Queenie glanced back at the amazed desk officer, flashing him her superior smile.

  They walked into a conference room with maps and charts on every wall. From there, they were shown up a small set of metal stairs, across a narrow catwalk, and onto the bridge.

  The first time on the bridge of a United States naval ship never fails to impress and amaze. It certainly impressed the McMasters kids. Sitting in one of two big swivel seats was Commander Allen. On the back of his chair was a handwritten sign that said, BOSS. It made things really clear. He was in charge.

  Windows circled half the room, giving them a perfect view forward. Obviously, this was the highest point on the ship.

  Jack stared out, fascinated. He watched a bunch of deck apes working topside on painting detail. The Navy painted its ships nonstop, and always haze gray. A sailor had told Jack, “If you don’t salute it, paint it.” Jack thought, A sailor’s life is seriously gray: gray skies, gray ocean, and a ship painted nothing but gray.